


Drunk

by padawanhilary



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-26 14:52:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19008043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padawanhilary/pseuds/padawanhilary
Summary: Trigger warning: alcohol abuse.Prompted by a post in https://www.facebook.com/groups/AllThingsAdoribull/Beta read byCurious ThimbleKrem gets a little too drunk with the Chargers and then... well. Shenanigans.





	Drunk

The Herald’s Rest had almost cleared out. The Chargers had paid in advance for their ales and sent the barkeep home. It’d be a long night - it tended to be when there was nothing world-ending going on - but Bull could see Krem’s drunken resolve beginning to waver. It was in the eyes, not quite yet in the posture. He wasn’t leaning, he wasn’t slurring, but Bull had seen it too many times not to recognize it. Everybody knew Krem would pass out before he’d admit defeat. 

Dorian leaned against Bull’s side companionably, his own tankard and his forearm resting on one massive thigh, and he asked, “How do you not realize - his sheer size alone dictates that you’ll lose.” 

“No one wants to hear about his size again,” Dalish chimed in to a round of titters and guffaws, and Grim made a profane gesture indicating girth. 

“I’m fine,” Krem grinned belatedly at Dorian. “Don’t you worry about me. You just make sure he doesn’t get so soused that his _size_ doesn’t matter.” 

“Never been a problem,” Bull chuckled, giving his kadan a lopsided smirk. Dorian shot back a smugly contented grin. 

Rocky dropped a small glass of whiskey into his tankard and downed the whole thing in a long pull. “Oi, some of us gotta sleep tonight. Don’t be puttin’ images in our heads, Krem.” 

“You’re blaming me?” Krem took another drink, not to be outdone by Rocky’s antics with the liquor. 

“Always blaming you,” Skinner said, putting aside her own tankard; she didn’t feel a need to prove anything in this pissing match. “Your envy is clear.” 

Someone poured Krem a small draught of whiskey - probably Rocky - and Krem slammed it back. “There’s no envy, believe me. I’d like a partner to be able t’walk the next day.” 

“I’ve got gold that says if you keep drinking out of that Rivaini bottle, walking won’t be your strong suit, either.” Bull took up said bottle and chugged a little. He offered it to Dorian, who demurred with a raised hand. 

“‘M fine,” Krem insisted. “Worry about your ownself.” 

But the decline was already happening, and everyone knew it. Rocky stopped drinking a round later, belching loudly and declaring his stomach and head full. Skinner had reverted to the bottle alone, rather than the cask, but was nursing it slowly. Grim - well, no one really knew how much Grim could drink, because he always carried a bottle to bed with him. Bull just kept on keeping on; eventually Dorian became bored of it all and stood. 

“Don’t be too late,” he ordered lightly. “If you wake me up, I’ll be surly.” 

“I like it when you’re surly,” Bull reminded him. Dorian scoffed lightly and gripped a horn, giving Bull an affectionate - and somehow suggestive - shake. Bull grabbed him close and pulled him down for a kiss before releasing him, smiling pleasantly as his gaze followed Dorian’s ass out the door. 

“Love watching him walk away,” he sighed, grinning. 

Krem was watching, too, but it was less an appreciation of Dorian’s hindquarters and more a wistful kind of longing for what he and Bull shared. 

That look in Krem’s eye got Bull thinking, and when the liquor’s almost gone, that’s a dangerous thing.

~ ~ ~ ~

Bull whistled cheerfully as he strutted to Krem’s quarters, tankard in one hand, Krem slung over the opposite shoulder. 

“‘Mfine,” Krem moaned, then hiccupped. 

“Sure you are. Don’t know how many times we’ve warned you not to mix Rivain and Orzammar. I’ll have Stitches make you a draft in the morning.”

“Rocky mishes Rivan - Rivini - and Orz’mar alla time,” Krem countered, swaying gently against Bull’s back and then realizing how bad his position actually was. “Augh. Yer ass is right - iss right in m’face.”

“‘S what you get for doing this again. Warn me if you gotta puke; these are new breeches.” Bull ascended the steps to the corner of Skyhold where Krem kept his quarters. 

But there wouldn’t be any puking, nor any more argument - ass or no, Krem was completely out.

~ ~ ~ ~ 

The infernal morning sun shone higher in the sky than it should have, which meant that it was late. A horrific beam of maddeningly white light skewered its way into Krem’s high window, past his eyelids, through his eyeballs, and into his head. 

“Oh,” he moaned, covering his eyes with one hand and rolling onto his side. His pillow was gone and he was, for some reason, curled up on the very edge of the bed. He was in his smalls. His blanket was twisted and it was difficult to move; the bed felt funny. He yanked at the covers, causing a bolt of pain to rip through his head, and then froze. 

There was someone in the bed with him. 

“Oh,” he said again, eyes still closed. It took every ounce of his considerable courage to look. Whoever it was, she was turned away from him. Soft, ash-brown hair tumbled over the pillow (at least that wasn’t missing, just taken up - then again, it was _taken up_ ), and he almost reached out to touch before catching himself. Her shoulder was naked, pale skin lightly freckled, and he wondered what _she_ had on under the blanket.

“Um,” he half-whispered, unsure whether he wanted to wake her or leave her alone. What in the name of all that was holy had _happened_ last night? 

Krem forced himself into a sitting position and sighed, hunching over to clutch his head, elbows resting on his knees. “What did you do?” he demanded softly of himself.

“What?” a sweet, sweet voice asked, and horror dawned in Krem’s heart. 

Slowly, he looked over his shoulder as she turned toward him, carefully keeping the blanket over her chest. When her eyes met his, Maryden gave him a contented and yet slightly wicked smile. 

“No,” he breathed, blinking. “No, that did not happen.” 

“Oh, yes it did,” she promised, reaching up to glide her hand from his shoulder down his arm. “You were magnificent. So was I, actually.” Maryden grinned. 

“I -” Krem’s terror and crushing disappointment in himself warred against her flattery. He jerked away from her touch and stood, uncaring for the moment that he was mostly naked. 

“No, no, no,” he chanted under his breath, and then his cheeks flamed and he scrambled for his breeches and tunic. Instead of putting them on, he balled them together in front of his crotch. “This wasn’t - this can’t -”

“Why can’t it?” Maryden asked him, tilting her head. “You wanted to, didn’t you?” 

“No -” he said reflexively, then shook his head, grimacing at the pain every movement caused. “I mean - yes, I - I did, I _do_ , but it wasn’t - I wanted to ask you properly, it wasn’t supposed to - how can I not _remember_?”

“Oh,” Maryden said softly, her gaze dropping to the mattress. She clutched the blanket closer to her chest. 

“Maker take me,” Krem breathed. He turned away from her and began to yank his clothes on. “I’m sorry,” he said tightly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“Wait,” she called weakly, raising a hand as he darted out the door in his bare feet, still lacing his tunic. Blinking and frowning, she dropped her head and began to look for her own clothes.

Krem half-walked, half-jogged to Skyhold’s main hall. It was too early for the Rest, and anyway, the smell of the tavern might make him - 

He ducked behind a tree to vomit.

By the time he was done, he was shaky, but better. His head still wanted to explode, and now his throat was burning, but he could make it to tea and -

And what? What would he do after tea? Avoid her forever? Pretend it hadn’t happened, that he hadn’t ruined what he’d longed for with a drunken shag - and to add insult to injury, couldn’t remember what they’d done?

“Krem!” Bull shouted heartily - causing Krem another grimace of pain - and raising his mug of tea in greeting. “The conquering hero! How’d it go last night?” 

Why had Krem thought coming here was a good idea? 

“You know?” Krem asked, shoulders slumping miserably. It was so much worse than he’d thought.

“Of course we do,” Dorian replied, stirring a dollop of honey into his own cup. “Sounds of your glory rang through Skyhold, apparently.” 

“Maferath’s balls.” Krem sank onto a bench and dropped his head to the tabletop, whimpering in pain.

“You throw up yet or not?” Stitches asked. 

“Yes,” Krem moaned into the wood, and a cup was immediately set by his head; he detected the warmth and smelled herbs. With some effort, he sat up straight and began to drink without question. It was soothing, the taste of cool, honeyed mint contrasting with the heat of the tea.

He wanted to crawl into it and disappear.

A huge hand engulfed his shoulder. “You’ll be alright, buddy,” Bull promised. “Worse things have happened.” 

“Can’t imagine how,” Krem muttered. “I don’t remember a damned thing. I had it all planned out, you know, I just… hadn’t got up the courage to ask her. I was going to set up a picnic on the battlements with the whole valley below us and ask her if she’d - y’know, if she’d see me. If she’d be mine. That’s how important it was, and I go and fuck it up by getting blasted.” He wallowed in his misery between sips of tea, then raised his head to see that everyone was looking at him. “What?” he asked, brow furrowing. 

Rocky’s lips were pressed tightly together beneath his generous moustache. Dorian was looking very intently at a tapestry. Dalish was watching Krem, her eyes twinkling. 

Bull shook his head slowly. “Did she take the whole pillow _and_ the blanket?” he asked, amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Dorian was grinning, too. “I suggested she use the word ‘magnificent.’” 

“I’m the one who convinced her to go in the first place,” Rocky chimed in, quite proud of himself. “Was she naked? That was optional.” 

Grim gave an appreciative grunt, obviously imagining it.

Krem stared between them, then turned to the Chargers one by one. “You… _assholes_ ,” he breathed, eyes wide. “You - how could you?” 

“That’s for the time you set me up with a Templar,” Dalish retorted haughtily. “Not that it made any difference, being as I’m an archer.” 

Furious, Krem downed the rest of his tea, ignoring the way it scalded his throat, and stood. “I can’t believe you. You knew I couldn’t resist her - this is beyond a prank. This is the shittiest thing you guys have ever done.” 

“Easy there, killer,” Bull said mildly, raising a hand in an attempt to calm him. “No one ever said -” 

“No. You - you just shut up. Leave me alone.” He turned and left the hall, bare feet slapping on the stones. 

Varric watched Krem leave, then approached the Chargers’ table. “Finally did it, huh?” he asked Bull. 

“Eyup.” 

“He gonna be okay?” 

“Oh, sure.” Bull finished his own tea and popped a bite of bread into his mouth, playing his fingers through the short hair at the back of Dorian’s head. “If it hasn’t fixed itself in a day, I’ll take care of it.” 

Dorian turned to look at Bull. “It seems a little heavy-handed for a bit of fun,” he admitted. “Are you sure this wasn’t going too far?” 

“Positive,” Bull nodded without hesitation.

Varric grunted thoughtfully, staring in Krem’s wake.

~ ~ ~ ~

The sun stood high above the gardens, though the breeze remained cool. Krem sulked on a bench near the dawn blossoms, well past trying to figure out how he was going to fix things with Maryden. He wanted to know how they’d done it - had they simply told her he’d been carrying a torch and asked her to go to him? Why would they do that when he was so far into his cups? How in blazes had he even gotten to bed? Had she been there when he’d arrived?

Honestly, Krem had spent the better part of the late morning and early afternoon staring at the stones in the garden walk and realizing that if he hadn’t destroyed everything by sleeping with her last night, he’d definitely done it by running out this morning. He hadn’t even been back to his bunk - he was still barefoot. 

Finally he got up and wandered over to pluck an elfroot leaf and chew it. His stomach was in knots now - and not from the drink. He knew damned good and well that he couldn’t just ignore Maryden. She was going to have questions, and…

That little sound she’d made, so disappointed when he’d said he couldn’t remember…

He wrapped a hand over his eyes, squeezing them shut and sighing. 

“Nothing happened, you know,” came her soft voice from behind him, and he jumped in startlement.

“I - what?” Krem asked, blinking. She was fresh-faced, her hair pulled back from her temples and then cascading over her back and shoulders. Her tunic was a deep pink under her leather vest, cinched at the waist with a broad belt. Sometimes she wore sky blue, sometimes a color like Orlesian apricots, but to his mind, everything in the world set off the perfect pale green of her eyes.

“I was only teasing this morning. Nothing happened.” Maryden’s expression was soft, but her fingers were twisted together in front of her, working anxiously. “I thought it was just a harmless prank - I didn’t mean to -”

“Please,” Krem said quickly, and he put a hand over her linked ones without realizing he was going to do it. “It isn’t your fault, it’s theirs. And mine, truth be told. The Chargers never leave anything alone if they can blow it up instead, and they know how I feel about you. They’ve known a long time. ” 

She looked down at his hand covering hers, then pulled her fingers apart before turning one hand up under his to lace theirs together. “But _I_ didn’t know.”

Krem stared at their intertwined fingers, hers lightly freckled and pale against his darker skin, and he swallowed. It was one of the most perfect things he’d ever seen. When he looked into her eyes again, the open adoration in her gaze humbled him. 

“If I had,” she went on softly, “I would never have taken part. That’s what made me so sad this morning - the thought that I’d actually hurt you.” 

Krem’s heart hammered in his chest. He closed his eyes and let out a short, self-deprecating laugh. “What you must think of me.” 

When he tried to tip his head down, she caught his chin in her free hand and encouraged him to look at her. “Nothing bad,” she promised. “Especially now. But… we can start over, if you like.” 

“Start… over?” 

“We can laugh about this morning later,” Maryden clarified with a little smile. “When it’s not so… sharp. For now, we can pretend it never happened.” She nodded encouragingly at him when he sighed in relief. 

“Chief’s never going to let me live this down,” Krem murmured.

Maryden laughed, and the sound was so sweet and merry that his heart melted a little. “There are worse things,” she pointed out, looking down at their joined hands - and then his bare feet. “Would you like to… put some boots on?” 

“If you’ll walk with me,” he said, and when she nodded again, he grinned so hard his cheeks hurt a little. 

So they did walk, hand in hand, to his room. He cleaned his feet briefly and then tugged stockings and boots on. All the while, they chatted about small things: a new song she was working on, how pretty the gardens are in the early spring, how good Stitches’ mint tea was for hangovers. She admitted to not having drunk much at all; it wasn’t good for her voice, and she was mostly working during drinking hours. They wandered back outside once more, and she took his hand again with a casual ease that made Krem’s heart leap. 

The sky had produced a thin veil of cloud cover by the time they left his quarters, but the day still looked perfect to him. 

“Let’s go up to the battlements,” Maryden suggested. Krem’s heart turned another somersault. 

The view of the valley was clear even though the sun was a bit greyed over. Maryden leaned onto the brick, gazing down over it. 

“Look at all those tents.” Her eyes were wide, and she held great awe in her tone. “They’re here for this - for us.” 

“For the Inquisitor,” he corrected lightly. 

Maryden turned to him, leaning her hip against the stone and propping her elbow up on it cockily. “The Inquisitor is nothing without the Inquisition. We have our roles, Krem, whatever they may be, and we are important.” 

Her gaze was cool and strong, and he realized that if he’d been in love before, now he was falling all over again. 

“You’re… incredible, Maryden,” he breathed. But even as she smiled, he felt his stomach fall in fearful dread. “I… before we go any further, I have to tell you something.” 

Her smile faltered in response to his serious tone. “Yes?” 

A cool breeze swept over the battlements, and Krem looked out over the valley. This was, if he could let himself think of it as such, the most important moment of his life. He’d trusted his bribed medic, and Bull and the Chargers had simply accepted him wholesale, but this was new. This was _crucial._

“I was born as a female,” he said, tension lacing every word. “It’s why I had to run, how Bull found me. But in my heart, in my _soul_ , I am a man. Does - does that make sense?” He’d rehearsed this a hundred times, but now that they were here - 

“I don’t care,” Maryden told him. At his startled expression, she went on, shaking her head. “That’s not right. I do care. I care about you, and I want you to be happy.” Abruptly she tipped her face up to the sky and laughed softly. “As though I’d have anything to say about that.” 

“You do,” he answered without hesitation, and then he laughed, too, cupping her cheek. “You actually have a whole lot to say about it.” 

Maryden tilted into his touch, closing her eyes and covering his hand with her own. “Then… I say let’s be happy. Whatever that means.” 

Krem smiled, then leaned in close. Maryden slid her hand around the back of his neck - and then their lips met. 

Krem’s stomach went hot. He parted his lips and found her not only willing but hungry - but holding a little back. Both of them were, and he knew that it was because this was just too good to rush. 

“See,” Bull told Dorian from the doorway of the tower as they observed Krem and Maryden finally kissing. “This is why it wasn’t too much. That,” and he swirled his finger at the young lovers to encompass everything that they were together, “was a long time coming, and who knows how long it would’ve taken him to man up?” 

Dorian let out a surprised little grunt that he probably picked up from Bull himself. “And it doesn’t bother you that he’ll probably still be upset at you?” 

“Eh, he’ll think he wants to be, but he’ll get over it. He’ll be busy.” Bull looked down at Dorian and slid a hand down Dorian’s spine to his ass. “Now let me tell you how the Chargers helped me get _you_ into bed.” 

Dorian made an affronted noise. “They dared?!” he breathed, feigning anger before shaking his head with a grin. “This had better be good.” 

Bull’s lopsided grin showed up. “Or…?”

“Or I know where the rope is.” 

Bull laughed softly, closing the door on Krem and Maryden. “I’m about to tell you the worst story ever, then.”


End file.
